


Showtime

by thatfangirl



Category: Disney RPF
Genre: Closeted Character, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:23:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatfangirl/pseuds/thatfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>When Demi sits down for an interview, she already knows the lede.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Showtime

**Author's Note:**

> Although these characters are based on actual personas, this story is entirely fictional.

It's easier to tell people what they want to hear. When Demi sits down for an interview, she already knows the lede: "Demi Lovato might have a TV show and a record to promote, but at heart she's a normal teenage girl, just like you!" Maybe normal girls don't get bullied out of school, but they do get bullied, so it always comes up. Typically, it gets spun one of two ways: she was an ugly duckling tormented or a nascent talent persecuted. "They bullied you because of your weight," the interviewer might suggest. Or: "They bullied you because they were jealous." Either way, Demi says yes because there's probably some truth to both. But neither is _the_ truth because those stories already have their endings: she's beautiful now, she's successful now, and one day, normal teenage girl, you will be, too.

Demi's story isn't over at all.

She should be an old pro by the time she appears on _Ellen_, but she sings way too fast, and when Ellen begins her banter, Demi's voice cracks. Ellen asks her about the bullying, of course, and at first Demi sticks to the script, but then she finds herself blaming it on her lifestyle and that's definitely the wrong word to use when she's sitting across from the most famous lesbian in America.

"But," Demi rushes on, "the thing that—I want to—I guess, the way that I want to, um, impact girls as, y'know, a..."

"A role model," Ellen suggests, smoothing over her flustered incoherence. "You can say it."

"Okay, a role model," Demi agrees, because there's no way she can say _it_.

Ellen wraps up the interview and Demi retreats backstage, but before she can leave, Ellen comes to say goodbye. It's the usual stay-gold-ponyboy cliches, but then Ellen says something that gets Demi's attention: "I can't imagine doing what you are when I was sixteen, but I guess things are changing."

*

As Demi's car pulls away from the Warner Bros. Studios, she texts her mom, then tells the driver to take her to Selena's. Mandy gives her a hug and a snack, and although Selena's still at work, she lets Demi into her room. Demi pulls Selena's covers over her head and the world recedes.

She wakes up as Selena's curling around her. Instinctively, she burrows into Selena's arms and presses her face against Selena's neck. It's completely different from but no less exhilarating than playing a sold-out concert. Demi knows that she can find a way to keep doing both.

*

It's a few days after she and Nick finish writing "Stop the World" when Demi tapes her second appearance on _Ellen_. There isn't a sit-down interview, but she nails "Don't Forget," and Ellen seeks her out in the green room afterwards. "Hey, kiddo. How're you doing?"

For a girl who just announced her first headlining tour, Demi's not doing too well. Selena's in Canada, filming _Ramona and Beezus_, and won't be back until it's time for Demi to leave. At least they'll be together when _Princess Protection Program_ premieres. This time last year, they were filming it in Puerto Rico. Demi knows just how blessed she is, but that's when she was happiest.

Ellen's frowning at her, and Demi realizes she hasn't replied yet. "Doing great."

Ellen's really frowning at her now. "Make sure you take care of yourself."

Demi guesses _Sonny_ won't be up for an Emmy anytime soon. "Thanks." Then, all at once, as if she's purging: "Was it hard?"

"Was what hard?"

"When you—your fans." Demi's read about Ellen since the last time she saw her. She knows that people didn't return her calls for three years after she was on the cover of _Time_. "I mean, people know everything about you. And not all of them like you for it." Pale blue eyes widen. "Never mind. Forget it."

"But I thought you didn't want me to forget?" Ellen's smiling like that's a joke, and then Demi remembers her song.

"I have to go. I'm supposed to—" From the depths of her purse, The-Dream and Rihanna start singing about livin' a lie, which is the most inopportune ringtone in all of history and one that she is going to change immediately. "That's my driver. He just brought the car around."

"Wait—"

"Sorry!" Demi calls as she runs away. "Sorry!"

*

As summer fades to fall and DemiandSelena fractures and breaks into Demi and Selena and then just Demi, she weighs the value of being liked by millions of people who don't know her against disgusting the only one who does. She weighs the meanings of _role model_.

*

Demi's contractually obligated to spend another New Year's Eve with Ryan Seacrest and Dick Clark's cryogenically frozen head. Selena's there to perform her new single, and their smiles are anything but natural.

"Hi." When Selena doesn't respond, Demi adds a dorky wave. She can feel her pulse throbbing in her temples.

"Hi," Selena finally repeats.

"Can I?" Demi half-asks before grabbing Selena by the elbow and pulling her to an almost private corner.

"What are you—get off me!" Selena hisses, wrenching her arm free. "Demi, what the hell?" And that's how she knows Selena is truly pissed.

"I'm sorry, and not just for"—she mimes grabbing—"for everything. I don't know how I screwed up ten years together so quickly"—Selena draws breath as though preparing to explain in great detail, so Demi continues, "but I want to fix things and I can't promise that I'll never do anything dumb again, 'cause I am dumb, you know that, but I can promise to try, so if you could try to give me another chance—"

"Miss Lovato, you're on in two," a PA interrupts.

Demi grits her teeth so hard her molars creak. "I'll be there in a sec."

"Demi." Selena sighs expressively. "We can talk about this later. You need to get onstage."

With that dismissal, Demi does. She's supposed to play "Remember December," but she shoos the band offstage and then it's just her and her guitar. "Hey, New York."

"We love you, Demi!" rises above the wall of sound.

For a moment, she thinks about calling the band back and doing what she's supposed to. Then she clips her capo to the sixth fret and explains, "When something happens to me, I write a song about it. So, when I fell for someone I wasn't supposed to..." She indicates her guitar. "But the thing about falling in love is, you can't help who it's with. Not everybody gets that, so when other people don't want you to be together, it's up to you to be brave." She strums from G to A minor to F, then stops. "Which I wasn't." Demi takes the deepest breath of her life. Then: "I miss her. Anyway." She resumes strumming, and sings, "_I don't know why, I don't know why, I'm so afraid..._"

*

When she gets offstage, Adam Lambert, who's up next and thus has the unenviable task of getting the party back on track after her performance, grabs her by the shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I..." Demi blinks as she considers. Her mascara is smudged and her fingertips have cracked. "I think so." He gives her an incredulous look and she laughs. "Get out there and entertain us."

She's still glassy-eyed with shock when midnight approaches. "We're very close now," Ryan prattles from her left. "You can just feel the energy. You can hear the volume picking up here in Times Square."

Ryan hands the broadcast over to Dick, and then the only sound on the platform comes from the throng below. It's like last year, only this time she and Selena are standing on opposite sides rather than Taylor and Joe.

The countdown starts. "Ten!" Demi shouts with the other musical guests. "Nine! Eight!"

Selena's walking towards her.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

"Hi."

"Four! Three! Two!"

"Hi."

"One! Happy New Year!"

It's a peck. It probably isn't broadcast.

It feels better than hearing ten thousand people scream her name.


End file.
